The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 1038

Chapter 1038: Edicts

Putting shape to the shapeless, inflicting death to death. Two meaningless actions. A tornado of raw strength tore the surroundings into shreds. The previously shattered castle that held half of the structure was now a raging pile of dust and ash. Morpheus, the shaper of dreams and reality – held his palm open. Like the exuberant force from Igna, his strength, the dust, rivaled a faceless monster – the shadows.

‘I don’t feel anger,’ the imprisonment gradually shattered, ‘-I don’t feel hate,’ he watched as the tornadoesque aura further unleashed, ‘-I feel neutral, I’m neutral. I saw Persephone’s death, I witnessed Syhton’s last act. How foolish the mortal world is, how foolish the associated emotions. It’s funny,’ time slowed, nothing escaped the movement, ‘-I started my journey as a mage who gave his emotions. I manipulated people for my gain and eventually got what I wanted. I died shortly after, and my attempts at shaking the curse of misfortune worked for a bit until my path shifted to where I stand today. History repeats like the infinity symbol, I find myself having chosen my path. Morpheus is strong, he’s very strong. Killing him would be impossible as he holds the rank of Watcher. He’s a thorn. Think of consequences, the death of he who brings dreams and nightmares to reality might send the world into chaos. My bloodlust is tamed, it’s not here. I know I can win if I choose, I know I can do anything I want. The confidence made me lax, I no longer care to fight. Don’t feel emotions,’ he chuckled at the thought, ‘-here I go talking about nothing. What a life,’ the chest exhaled and the posture eased. Morpheus kept his distance – a crashing tsunami of sand fought against the overwhelming power of Death. Shadow against the beige of the particles; lightning exploded all around, and the wind howled the music of hatred.

‘When it’s said and done,’ he sliced the air, Morpheus fell from the seat atop the sand wall, “-I dictate my path, no one else.”

The God of sleep quickly clambered upright. A visible sense of fear was reflected. He drew weapons and gestured in an upward motion – no soldiers rose, nothing worked. A singular sound echoed, deadening the surrounding.

“Morpheus.”

“Igna?”

“Why do you look confused?”

.....

“Why are we in a conversation?” he scanned Persephone and Syhton, “-we killed those close to you, what is wrong-”

“Ah,” he stopped at the center of the debris, “-I ought to tip my head in respect to Artanos. That man is someone who I consider a true rival. He’s a pain but all the more fun to go up against.”

“Igna,” the god flashed his palm in a ‘-stop’ dunes rose, swallowing remains and bodies, “-don’t come any closer else.”

“Else what?”

“I’ll grind them all into dust. Turning them into monsters of the sand would be a trivial matter. I heard all about the God of Death’s army of the dead. What say you, care to fight a war?”

“Fight a war?” he smiled and listlessly cleared an area for a throne to be raised, “-this is no war,” the throne and the surrounding ground rose in a cube-shaped. Its shadow encompassed Morpheus who rose his head in confusion, “-tis judgment.” A subtle snap was heard from out of nowhere. A clock ticked from what it seemed – the seconds thundered and a mild smirk came upon the god’s face.

“I know this feeling all too well,” the shaper reappeared behind Igna, “-being looked down by another. Don’t underestimate the power of Dreams,” he blew sand, and Igna’s chin dropped in slumber.

*Be soothed by the sound of water, be warmed by the radiant sun. Rest, fellow dreamer, for tis in sleep that one finds Elysium.*

A sigh of relief escaped, “-he’s out,” he stumbled and caught the throne’s arm, “-what kind of power does he possess? We’ve been fighting using our auras, the entire mountain’s in pain. To live on the border between genius and insanity, such is the curse of the chosen. You were dealt a bad hand... what’s done is done. Long as my dreams have to power to put his mind at ease, I don’t have to worry about an ambush.”

*Crash,* a view over the shattered castle turned into the starry night. A sharp pain pulsed until, “-AHHHH,” a yelp cried, “-MY HEAD!”

Igna stood over Morpheus, “-I appreciate the dream,” he said, “-alas, fantasies are wasted on someone like me.” Silvery white suits of armor clambered, the helmed ones hoisted up the cube. Sand escaped the tips of their weapons or point of damage.

“An army!” over the very same view rose an enormous arrangement of squares and rectangles. Moonlight echoed off their armor, some shone in bronze, others in white. Strong weapons and heavy protection made the rounds. Obedience and patience kept the force at a standstill.

*Cough, cough, cough,* “-Igna, I granted an opportunity. I granted thee a chance at escape and rest – you choose resistance and the path to destruction. The three in one were right – you, Devil, will be your end. No matter the strength or the acquired power, there will come a time when it all shall end in blood. Artanos was wrong, so was Gophy – you’re not ready to carry the burden, hell, you’re not worthy as a candidate. Let it end,” the body crumbled into dust, “-for death only understands his melody,” echoed throughout. The summoned cube shook – land underneath the structure caved until ground level.

“Stop, Death,” came a hiss, “-do not engage one of the Watchers.”

“Cruse, what a lovely surprise.”

“The expression says otherwise,” a slightly taller, more handsome version of the boy appeared at Igna’s side, “-don’t let the hard works go to waste. The Gods believe your death, killing one of them now will only work against us. Igna, clam down.”

“I know, I am calm,” he exhaled, “-what about the army, he left here and vanished.”

“What army?” he put his hand over the eyebrow and gazed, “-WHAT THE?”

“Know something I don’t?”

“That’s the Sleeping army,” the hands lowered, “-controlled by Morpheus.”

“What about it?”

“They’re infamous for resilience. No matter the foe, they’ll fight even if there’s one on their side. Don’t look active, I say we very well let them alone.”

“And miss this opportunity?” a grand smile took Cruse by surprise. *Realm Expansion, Shadow Realm Variant; Rantiam,* the pentagram of Death shimmered against the darkened night.

“Igna?”

“...” no answer, a single thought occupied the mind, *Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, from when you were born and till you die, I hold in my hands the strings which binds you to this world, by my authority, I order thy chains to be severed, spell, Tactus Interitus.* Dust, the legendary army spoken in tales of old crumbled.

*By the power bestowed upon me by the Supreme god Kronos, I, inheritor of the sickle, order for the realm to go by mine pace: Time Control – Pause.* a grayscale orb expanded.

Cruse watched in awe, “-the sickle of time,” he gulped, “-I thought you couldn’t use the powers?”

“You thought wrong,” he wrote multiple symbols on thin-air, *-knowledge known to only the watcher, I, master and inheritor of Origin, beckon thee; Mantia, Library of the all-knowing,* knowledge, raw and undefiled, flow across the bicolored pupils. Waves of ancient text, knowledge, and tremendous power known as the Edicts, wove into the fabric of reality.

“Edicts,” added Cruse, “-why can you use them?”

“Edicts work like proclamations. Syhton used her authority and freed Alta, who before her death shattered my cage. The Will of God, as so many mortals name them, is the manifestation of a deity’s true strength. In my case, I haven’t the ability to use Edicts, what I can do is borrow Edicts,” he winked, “-raise Infinity, the Emerald of Time!” a soft green glow pulsed throughout his body, “-you should know, Cruse, I don’t think I’m cursed nor do I resent the trouble that paves the path ahead. I honestly think I’m blessed, too blessed. A greater entity writes the fate of what is to happen – the three in one know all, and I, inheritor of Origin, know all and understands less.” *Present and never changing, present and never yielding. All who wait break and all made are subjected to thine will. I, God of Death, the humble inheritor of thy power; call upon thee to have mine will answer: Time Control – Reversal,* instant the cryptic words fell, the wind blew backward, the flowing clouds returned – debris of the castle and the amber lights returned. Guards stood at their station, and medieval forms of transport; horse-drawn carriages, made their journey. The bodies, bloodied lines of torn innards rejoined at various points.

“This power?” Cruse blinked, “-the Supreme god. Igna, why do you have his blessing?”

“Don’t you know?” he walked into the middle, “-Time and Death are friends,” *snap,* another bubble expanded. Dead came to life, broken returned to health. Any sign of battle washed. Knowing glances narrowed to a puff of smoke.

“There you are,” said the vexing ache from a troubling climb, “-Igna...”

“Mother,” he replied courteously, “-isn’t the view from the watchtower just amazing?”

“I saw what happened, I know, Igna, I know you fought Morpheus. We were killed, no way we should be alive. What happened?”

“Realm Expansion,” he puffed, “-mother, you should realize by now, the Shadow Realm far outranks any entity that may interfere in my affairs. It wasn’t pleasant seeing my family die,” he shrugged,”-Death is part of existence. It’s what makes life important, such is what I’ve come to understand,” he paused, adding a moment’s reflection at the circumstances, “-allow me a favor, majesty.”

“What is it?”

“Would you reward Alta handsomely for her bravery?”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“She risked her life, there’s nothing of much value that I can offer. She’s powerful as is, word’s of praise shan’t suffice.”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” warm hands grabbed his shoulder, “-give yourself time to rest. Trouble and you go hand in hand.”

“I know, mother, I know,” the watchtower cleared. He lit another cigarette and admired what laid ahead, ‘-strong, I’m too strong.’

*Thud,* an earnest figure speared his side and giggled loudly, “-IGNA!” jet black hair and crystal clear blue eyes fluttered at him invitingly, “-I made it home.” He crushed the cigarette and took her sides, “-Syhton, honestly, you had me worried.”

“What, the Edict worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s the problem... the gamble, it was too risky. One wrong move on my part and you’d have never walked the plane again.”

“Who cares,” she pinched his cheeks, “-I knew you’d win. What happened to Morpheus?”

“We might not see the man again – someone’s special on his trail.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“No, not kill – consider it payback for injuring those close to me,” he lifted the goddess, and she wrapped her legs against his back, a passionate exchange made a mockery of the shivery night.

Meanwhile, after many realms and multiple domains came the resting kingdom of the God of Dream. “Majesty, welcome home,” said many attendants.

“Thank you for the warm welcome,” he replied with a strained look, “- I need rest, could I be left alone?”

“Of course,” and thus opened the royal chambers. He undressed, the pale figure reflected onto a tall mirror, “-hurts,” he cringed, “-an affliction of the old curses. These symbols were used by the Elders. Edicts of the past,” dark spots lathered the chest and thighs, “-give me break.”

A draft whistled, “-who’s there?” no one, he scanned, throwing his neck side to side despite the pain, nothing. The curtains flowed, “-stop being paranoid,” he faced the mirror and froze. White hair flowed over his shoulder, long fingers went around his chest; sharp canines glimmered, “-IGNA?”

“Wrong,” he smirked, “-Vengeance,” the teeth sank, and blood sprayed across the mirror. The god shuddered in horror, “-let it be a warning,” he held Morpheus’s chin, “-oppose the master and tis the domain next. We will make do with the symbol for now,” a business card floated, “-call the Devil next time thee wishes to strike a deal, pitiful Watcher,” loud cackles puffed into the shape of Death.